


Embers

by LadyofAvalon



Series: The Violet Rider [1]
Category: Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-03-14
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyofAvalon/pseuds/LadyofAvalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the war against the Empire rages on, a girl named Miriah discovers that all she has is in danger. Then a stone from the Hadarac sands thrusts her into a new world where her skill with art means little, and her heart means everything. DISCONTINUED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Third Egg

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fanfiction I ever wrote, back in 2007 when we were still waiting for Brisingr. It completely ignores the continuity of everything past Eldest and was my spin on things at the time. It has since been discontinued, though I hope to rewrite it someday.

Still no news of the third dragon egg. Galbatorix paced up and down his throne room, his mind wandering from possibility to possibility. Just the fact that the egg had disappeared just before the capture of Arya the Elf-courier was rather disturbing. That Elf had caused him nothing but problems. And that Rider friend of hers! What a bothersome pair. Eragon Shadeslayer, the Rider of Saphira Brightscales, was more than a minor thorn in Galbatorix's side, he was like a festering sword wound.

Galbatorix paused to take a sip of wine from a crystal goblet. His mind drifted back to all the trouble that the blasted farmboy turned Rider had caused. His grip on the goblet tightened until it cracked and splintered into a multitude of pieces. He looked at the crystal shards with distaste, it was almost worse than the flimsiest glass, sometimes. Then he went back to his prowling.

He almost smiled when he thought of the excruciating death he was going to put the meddler Eragon through -but no. His dragon was the only female dragon in Alagaesia. It most certainly wouldn't do to lose the only female dragon, she was their last chance at reviving the dragons, and building an even greater empire that would be remembered forever…

_Enough. No more plotting. Time for action,_ he thought. Instantly he ran through his mental list of plans. After a moment he settled on one. He had to have that third egg back. If it was female, then all his plans would be saved, and he could kill the rebel Rider, and get on with his reign. His gaze fell on a young servant near the door.

"Alert Rider Murtagh that I require his presence immediately in the throne room," he barked. Even as he watched the man sprang into action, bowing briefly and almost running to fetch Murtagh.

It was several moments before the servant returned. He bowed to Galbatorix, "He will be here momentarily, milord. He was asleep, and needs a moment to ready himself before coming before you." Galbatorix gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement, and the young man returned to his post.

Several more moments passed before the young Rider appeared. His dark hair was a bit messy, and he looked a bit tired, but his eyes showed that he was alert. Murtagh was attired in all black, from black boots to a black hooded cloak. The young man inclined his head as he entered, and stood at attention about three meters away from Galbatorix, waiting for the king to speak first. Galbatorix didn't even look at the son of Morzan, last of the Forsworn. He continued pacing for a moment.

"You are to search Alagaesia for my last dragon egg. If you find it unhatched, then bring it back at all costs. If it has hatched, and it is female, then capture the dragon and its Rider. If it is male, kill it, and its Rider," Galbatorix snapped, turning to face the young Rider. "If it does turn out to be male, kill it with this." He turned back to the table where the shards of crystal lay.

On the table was a simple silver case. Galbatorix picked the case up, and, giving it a treasured look, turned back to Murtagh, the look disappearing instantly. He opened the case and extended it to Murtagh. In the case, softly cushioned by velvet of light silver, lay a sword, the blade clearer than crystal, and sharper than steel. The handle gave off a soft silver sheen, the same color as the velvet.

"The Diamond Sword of Eragon, the First Rider." Galbatorix smiled maliciously as he watched Murtagh stare at the sword in wonder. It was an extraordinary piece of weaponry, if had survived for centuries, even longer than most of the stories of its legendary wielder.

Galbatorix snapped the case shut and placed it on the table once more. "You will leave in the morning. Remember, there will be consequences if you botch this. Should said blundering happen, recall what happened to Durza when he botched the job…" Galbatorix growled, thrusting the case at Murtagh.

Murtagh gave the curtest of nods and strode from the hall. His hand rested on the wire-wrapped hilt of Zar'roc, reminding him of his brother. He let out a long sigh once he was out of earshot of Galbatorix.

Sometimes, he really wished he had accepted Eragon's offer….


	2. Of Amethyst and Diamond Stone

The Hadarac Desert was not a forgiving place. That was something Miriah knew well. She had lost her mother and father to the desert, in a viscous sandstorm, when she was only three.

Since then she had lived with her grandparents, Arainia and Velarion. By now, her grandparents were in the later part of their seventh decades, and neither could work like they once had. This meant that they would not be able to support three people for much longer. Not that they had to, with the marriage they had arranged for her.

Upon her eighteenth birthday, she was to set out for the city of Carulas, a seaport on the other side of the country. Once there, she was to marry a rich merchant who had taken a fancy to her when he had traveled through Lorievi. She had not been pleased when she had found out what they were planning. Her birthday was only a few months away, and she most definitely wasn't looking forward to it, more like she was dreading it.

What annoyed her more was the fact that she knew the merchant was only interested in her looks, the talent she had for weaving what she saw in her mind's eye and for her hand at drawing.

Of course, the merchant wasn't the only one who had an interest in her, just for her looks. Many of the young men in her own village were making attempts to win her, as well as a few who were just passing through.

She could understand why, she was pretty enough. She wasn't tall, but neither was she short, her height was closer to average. She was slender, instead of dangerously thin, or overly heavy. Her hair was dark red, several shades lighter than russet, something she had inherited from her mother's side of the family, and it fell to her slim waist. It was usually held back in a neat braid, except for the rare occasion of celebration in the village.

Her eyes were a rich shade of emerald green, far darker than the usual shade of green. Those features alone made her unusual, since there were very few people in the region who had red hair, and even fewer in the entire country who had eyes like hers. Aside from the shocking color, there was another thing that people saw when they looked into her eyes, a profound sadness.

Most people who knew her couldn't remember a time when that hadn't been there, but others knew better. That look had appeared in her eyes when her parents died. Miriah had barely known her parents, she'd been only a few years old when they'd died, but she missed them every day.

She wanted something more for her life, but she didn't know what. She had no idea that her life was about to change forever, and she had no say in it…

* * *

Sandstorms were a common thing in Lorievi, they normally happened at least twice a week. It was very unusual for a week to go by without a single sandstorm, but it wasn't completely unheard of. It was just one of those days, where a weak sandstorm whipped through the village. Everyone was inside, though they all had extensive experience out in the weak sandstorms.

Miriah in particular stayed inside, she hated sandstorms, more than she hated the sand itself. While the sands and countless pebbles beat against the stone houses of Lorievi, she sat inside the farthest one from the main village, weaving on her lap loom. The image on the decorative cloth was startling, a deep blue dragon that seemed to just leap from the material. The resemblance between the image and Saphira was remarkable, particularly because Miriah had never met either Eragon or Saphira, only heard rumors of them.

She'd been weaving such cloths to sell to the merchants since the last caravan came through Lorievi, when she'd first heard of the remarkable deeds of Eragon Shadeslayer, and his dragon, Saphira. Since that, she'd been able to think of nothing but dragons and the Riders. Ever since the rumors had reached her, she'd been drawing and weaving nothing but the dragons she saw in her mind's eye.

Miriah set the loom down, removing the cloth. Silently, she stood and made her way over to the small pile of similar cloths, folding it, and setting it on top. While she was there, she pulled a few skeins of the soft yarn she used from the shelf.

One skein, a brilliant shade of orange, slipped from the shelf when she pulled a lavender skein down. The orange skein hit the pile of cloths, sending them flying. Miriah let out a frustrated sigh, bending down to pick up the dragon cloths, but something caught her eye, a glint out in the sand, barely visible through the gritty window. Slightly shocked, she dropped the cloths she had picked up – one had the image of a golden dragon, the other, a red one.

Miriah's grandmother watched her without saying a word. The clatter had gotten her attention, but the look on her granddaughter's face was enough to keep her attention. "What's wrong, Miriah?"

Miriah glanced at her grandmother, shaking her head slightly, "I don't know. I think there's some sort of stone outside. I want to go check it out. Is that alright?" She looked enquiringly at her grandmother, who nodded. "Go ahead. Just be careful." Miriah nodded in response, and started toward the door, grabbing her leather jacket, as well as her goggles.

Miriah returned about a quarter-hour later, carrying an ovular stone that was about two feet in diameter. The stone was a deep shade of violet, veined with a milky, iridescent white, and smoother than any stone that had weathered out in the sandstorms of the Hadarac. Once through the threshold, she kicked the door closed. The sandstorm was almost over.

After a moment, she crossed to the table, where both of her grandparents sat. Carefully, she placed the stone on the table, then backed away to shed her coat and goggles.

While she did so, her grandparents quickly examined the stone. They'd never seen anything like it. Miriah, out of pure curiosity, rapped the stone with her knuckles. It made a hollow sound.

The three of them exchanged glances, "What do you think it is?" Miriah asked. Her grandmother shook her head, "I don't know, 'Riah. Only time will tell."

* * *

Days later, they still hadn't figured out what it was. What they had figured out, however, was that everyone in the village was rather afraid of it, and none of the shopkeepers would take it as payment.

But by then, they had other things to worry about. Galbatorix's soldiers had come to the village to collect the taxes, and draft some of the young men into the army. Unfortunately for Miriah, they also took a great interest in her, though it was only for her dragon weavings. They questioned her greatly about how she managed such an accurate image, and they weren't satisfied with her answer – "That's just how I see them, in my mind."

Fortunately some good came with the bad, traders and merchants came with the soldiers, a few of them had even come specifically for Miriah's weavings and drawings. Hers were said to be the most realistic images on cloth, or paper, for that matter, in all of Alagaesia. That pleased her to know, but she was far more concerned by the violet stone.

They'd managed to smuggle it to a trader who specialized in the identification, cutting, and sale of unusual stones. All that he could tell them was that in the North, at a village near the Spine, Carvahall, he'd seen a very similar stone. A young man had found it while hunting in the Spine, and had brought it back. He'd never seen or heard of anything like the two stones before, and all he could tell them was that be believed that it seemed to be made of varieties of amethyst and diamond stone…

* * *


	3. Sign of a Rider

It was after dark when Miriah and her grandparents returned from the merchant caravan. After returning the stone to the house once it had been examined, they had spent most of the day looking at the wares of the traders, and listening to the merchants' tales.

They'd had a hard time getting away, because one of the merchants was Miriah's betrothed, Elior, and he wanted to talk to them about the wedding plans. To Miriah that was just plain annoying.

He was nice enough, but she didn't want to have an arranged marriage. Her parents had married for love, and she wanted the same. It just irritated her that her grandparents totally ignored her feelings.

A short while later, she lay awake in her bed, thinking about the stone, which was across the room sitting on her small dresser. Shifting, she tried to get her attention off of it, but it had no effect. She was drawn to the stone, in ways she'd never felt before.

Finally, she got out of bed and crossed the room. She retrieved the stone, and returned to the bed, placing the stone on top of the soft cotton sheet.

Unconsciously she touched the stone, running her fingers along the opalescent white streaks. It was beautiful, truly like an opaque gemstone in her eyes.

 _What is it?_ She wondered. It didn't make a lot of sense. It was far too smooth to be a normal stone, but, considering the color, it couldn't really be anything else. For just a moment, she glanced away, to pick up the glass of water on the small table by her bed.

In that instant, there was a resounding crack that echoed in the room. Miriah jumped and whirled, glancing around the room. When she didn't see anything, she turned her attention back to the stone.

As she studied it, she noticed a crack near the top of the stone. _That wasn't there before, was it?_ She reached out, running her fingertips along the newly formed ridge. As she did, she felt something inside the stone, pushing against the thin crack. It was as if whatever was in there was trying to break free.

She frowned slightly, then her eyes widened as she realized that it wasn't a stone. It was an egg. She watched it for a few moments, during which several more racks appeared, some larger than the first.

At that point, she decided that it would be a good time to wake her grandparents. She slipped off of the bed, and walked toward the door. She wasn't even halfway there when another there was another crack, this one louder than the others.

She spun around, instantly looking at the egg. Her timing couldn't have been more perfect, just as she did so, the shell shattered. A small creature tumbled out of it, fell off the bed, and turned its shocked violet eyes on Miriah. Obviously it hadn't imagined its hatching to involve such a violent drop.

Miriah stood there, too shocked to move. She couldn't take her eyes off of the creature. It was a dragon. She knew that instantly, it was no larger than a small dog, and it was looking at her adoringly.

The color of the tiny dragon shocked her just as much – it was a gorgeous shade of iridescent purple. Miriah felt her heart melt as she looked into those dark lavender eyes.

Without even thinking, she knelt and stretched out her right hand toward the dragonet. As soon as she touched the dragon's tiny head, she regretted it. Her palm seared in a way she never would have imagined. She might have screamed if she hadn't bitten her lip.

As the pain cleared, she could taste the tang of the blood in her mouth. She gasped as there was one last spike of pain, then only painless relief. She pulled her hand away, and looked at it. In the center of her palm, where she had touched the dragon, there was an oval-shaped silvery mark there.

She stared at it for a moment, then cast a glance at the baby dragon. It was still looking up at her with adoring eyes. It had chosen her to be its Rider. That fact did not register, probably because she was too shocked for that to even occur to her.

She smiled slightly at the dragon, "Come on, sweetie, I think I need to go to bed. I have work to do in the morning." It cocked its head, as if wondering what she was saying, watching her as she lay down.

Abruptly, it clawed its way up to the pillow, and placed its tiny head on it next to hers. She smiled, and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep in an instant.

* * *

When Miriah woke the next morning, her first thought was that the events of the previous night had been a dream. She glanced at her palm. The silver mark was still there, and glancing next to her, she saw the iridescent purple dragon.

So it hadn't been a dream, it had really happened. She watched her dragon for a moment, then rolled carefully out of bed, so as not to wake the hatchling. She dressed in the manner she had for the last few years – in a linen shirt with a vest over it, a pair of hide breeches, and a pair of knee-high leather boots.

Carefully, she slipped out of the room, making sure the dragonet was still sound asleep before closing the door.

Silently she selected one of the books on the small shelf that they had. She was the only person in Lorievi who could read, besides her grandparents, but books were hard to come by in the village.

She settled down in one of the chairs by the table to wait for her grandparents to wake, opening the book to her favorite part. After a while, her grandmother appeared.

She smiled at Miriah, and moved to the kitchen to begin fixing breakfast for the three of them.

"Good morning, Miriah." Miriah nodded to her, watching her pull down the earthenware plates they had for everyday use.

"Good morning, Grandmother," she paused. She knew she should tell her grandmother, but she was unsure how she'd react. "Grandmother, I have something I need to show you. It's important…" Taking a deep breath, she led the older woman to the door of her room.

There was a faint scratching noise coming from inside the door as they approached. Taking another deep breath, Miriah opened her door. As soon as she did, a purple blur shot out and hit Miriah's legs, nearly causing her to fall over.

The dragon twined itself around her ankles, turning frantic violet eyes on her. She smiled at it; it seemed to have thought that she'd abandoned it.

She glanced at her grandmother, who was staring at the dragonet, her mouth open in shock. "Miriah, is that a _dragon_?" Miriah bit her lip. "Yes, Grandmother, it is."

Once her grandfather was up, they ate quickly as the dragon flitted around the room as a lavender blur.

* * *

After they finished, Miriah left to do her daily chores, making sure that her new friend couldn't get out of her room while she was gone. The chores didn't take her long, they never did.

It seemed like it took forever for her grandparents to decide what they were going to do about the dragon and Miriah being the dragon's Rider. She was done with her chores long before midday, so she sat in her room with her dragon, stroking its soft scales, which she knew would become razor sharp in time.

Every time she looked into its eyes, her heart melted. If she had anything to do with it, she'd never let anyone or anything ever hurt her dragon. Around mid-afternoon, there was a knock on her door. She opened it just a crack, so that her dragon wouldn't get out.

Her grandmother looked back at her, a single eyebrow raised; she could see the dragonet dancing around Miriah's legs. Miriah grinned, then opened the door wider, allowing the dragon to shoot out into the main room.

She closed the door behind her as she followed it, and glanced at her grandmother apprehensively. "Miriah, your grandfather and I have decided that we have to send you north, to protect you, and your dragon. We're sending you to the elves in Du Weldenvarden. The two of us will have to stay here, to avoid suspicion." That was a shock to Miriah, she hadn't left her grandparents since her mother and father had died.

"You are to leave tomorrow, before anyone else, particularly the soldiers, finds out. If the soldiers find out, then they will take you from us, and you will be forced into Galbatorix's service. You'll never get away from him alive, if that happens, and we will never see each other again."

Seeing Miriah's fear, her grandmother smiled, "At least this way all of us will have a chance. As it were, we are already running late. I will help you pack now, and then I'll show you how to use Brie's tack in a long-distance situation." She turned, signaling for Miriah to follow her. They had work to do.

It was pitch black when Miriah collapsed into her bed. The dragon was instantly on the bed, and snuggling into her side. They'd worked for the rest of the day baking bread, gathering supplies, getting water, packing her bags, getting meat for her dragon, and preparing it.

Miriah was dreading leaving. She'd been with her grandparents for more than a decade and a half. She loved Lorievi, but what would happen if she was found out? It was more than likely that, if she was, she and her dragon would be captured and taken to Galbatorix, and forced to serve him.

All he needed to do was get his hands on Miriah, and get his other egg to hatch, than Alagaesia would almost certainly be doomed. And Miriah's dragon was female, and the other was male, or the opposite, than he'd gain control over the entire race of dragons, and he could kill Eragon.

She couldn't let that happen. The Varden – the country itself – needed the hope that Eragon and Saphira brought. They were the only light in the absolute darkness, and they needed all the help that they could get.


	4. Elf-Friends

Dawn came far sooner than Miriah would have liked. She rolled over to see the sun glinting through the single window in her room. She groaned, she wanted to sleep more, and she most defiantly did not want to leave.

She sighed and shifted out of her bed, nudging her dragon as she did so. "Come on, little one, it's time to get ready to go." The dragon looked up at her with groggy violet eyes. She smiled, just like the little thing, not to want to get up either.

For once Miriah pulled a different set of cloths out of her dresser. This time, she chose a pair of pants made of soft, dark buckskin, a clean cotton shirt, and a sort of wrap-around vest, which was also dark in color.

She quickly slipped into those, and began to undo her braid. Once through undoing it, she ran a brush though the unruly strands. After that, she braided her hair once more, then wrapped the plait around itself, binding it into a bun at the nape of her neck.

She glanced in the mirror, a slight smile flickering across her face.

She glanced back at the dragon. It had rolled over on its back, and was snoring. Miriah shook her head.

"Come on, silly. It's not time to nap, we have to go." As she spoke, Miriah slung her satchel over her head and a single shoulder. She slipped a few more things into it before striding back to her bed.

"Alright. Your loss." Miriah grinned mischievously, picked up the dragon, and set it on its feet on the floor. The dragon promptly toppled over, and emitted a loud snore.

Miriah rolled her eyes. "Do I have to do everything myself?" Then the little dragon hiccupped, and jerked away, staggering for a moment. It looked up at Miriah with a confused look in its eyes.

Miriah simply raised an eyebrow, "I wasn't the one who was asleep. You have no-one to blame but yourself, sweetheart." The creature just stared at her as though it failed to comprehend what she said, and yet, it also looked like it understood what she said completely.

Miriah shook her head, grinning at the little dragon. "Come on, then. We're going to leave in a few moments." It seemed to understand that, and practically bounced to the door.

After a quick breakfast, Miriah saddled Brie. She made her final preparations, tying the last of her supplies to the saddle. Finally, she picked up her dragon again, and placed it on Brie, then mounted the horse herself. Once she was in the saddle, her grandmother thrust a scroll into her hand.

Miriah looked at it for a moment, rather confused, before unfurling it. It was a map of the Hadarac. It showed the pathways through the desert, even places where she could get water while they traveled.

Among points listed on the map were Farthan Dur in the lower right part, and Ellesmera deep in Du Weldenvarden. She glanced at her grandmother, "Grandmother, where did you get a map like this? You always told me that the elves were hidden in the forest, and that no map showed where their cities were."

Her grandmother smiled, "We can across it in Ellesmera itself. The elf queen – Islanzadi – gave it to us. We are some of the only humans – if not the only humans - who know the near exact location of the elves' capital. Miriah, we are known as Elf-Friends. Elf-Friends are the few humans who are completely trusted by the elves. That is the only reason we know where their cities are. Your parents were elf-friends, as well, before their deaths."

It was all that Miriah could do to just stare at her grandmother. This was all so new to her. She'd never imagined that her family had once had a life outside of Lorievi.

"Here, these are yours." Her grandmother reached into one of her pockets, and pulled out two silver rings.

The larger ring was a softly polished hammered band, set off by the iridescent white stone which was set in it.

The smaller was beautifully crafted; delicate strands of silver had been woven together in an almost lacey pattern. In that ring, an amethyst was set deep within the strands, but the stone itself was uncovered by the metal.

Clearly visible in each of the rings was a yawe, cut deep into the stone.

Miriah accepted the rings when her grandmother handed them to her, as well as the chain that was thrust at her. "Those rings are your, Miriah, by right, as they belonged to your parents. But be aware, Islanzadi must bestow a ring on you for you to be an Elf-Friend. Just because you have a ring does not mean that you are an Elf-Friend."

Then her grandmother slipped a ring off of her right hand, "This is my ring, it will also belong to you after I die." She handed the band to Miriah to examine.

It, too, was a beautiful ring, made of gold in the pattern of woven vines. The stone was a shade of green just a few shades darker than Miriah's eyes.

On her other side, her grandfather slid his ring off and handed it to her. It was also in gold, but more bold, with intricate runes etched into the metal. The stone was as black as the night sky, but without a single pinprick of light within it.

After looking at them for a moment, she handed the rings back to her grandparents. "Thank you," she said, tears in her eyes. She was going to miss them. Painfully so, it seemed.

She gave each of them another hug – a one armed one, this time. Finally, she kicked Brie into a trot, casting her grandparents one more glance before they faded from her view.

The tiny dragon, situated in front of her on the saddle, keened as they drew farther and farther away, as if it was sad to leave the place where it ad hatched.

Traveling through the desert was a hard task, even with the map. Miriah had to eat sparingly, and drink enough to stay hydrated, but not too much that she was out of water before the next oasis.

By the time they were across the Hadarac, she was nearly out of food, and there was almost no meat left for her dragon. She was thankful that they were only another day's ride from a place where they could hunt, if they had to.

It was late that night, after the sun had set, when Miriah was practically scared out of the saddle by a voice sounding in her mind.

 _Miriah!_ She jumped, glancing around wildly. There was no-one there, except for her dragon.

 _Miriah!_ It was then that she realized that is was the dragon. The violet blur was keeping up steadily keeping pace with her and Brie. Miriah stared at the dragon for a moment, before her thoughts began again.

"Are you talking?" She asked, still unable to take her eyes off of the creature.

 _Yes!_ The only thing that the soft feminine voice could be was the dragon.

"What's your name, little one?" She asked, tugging at Brie's reins, calling the mare to a halt.

 _Miriah!_ The dragonet said, her deep lavender eyes merry as she circled her Rider and the horse.

Miriah smiled, "You can't have that name, it's mine, silly." She reached out and scratched the dragon on the head. "You do need a name, however. How about Silvira?" Miriah asked. The dragon shook her head. _No._ Miriah paused, thinking. "Do you like Amera?" The dragon shook her head again. "Umm…Aralyn?" _No._

Miriah kicked Brie into a trot again, suggesting names as they went. They spent the rest of the night trying to find a name the dragon liked enough to go by.

At last, in the waning hours of the moon, very close to dawn, Miriah suggested one that the dragon liked – Niana.

Eventually, even with the additional food from the small animals that Niana caught, they ran out of food entirely.

They were still more than a week or more away from Ellesmera, but fortunately, they came across a small village as they drew closer to Du Weldenvarden. Miriah glanced at Niana as they neared the village.

"Stay here, alright? I need to go into town to buy food for the both of us. You need to stay out of sight if anyone comes this way, got it?" Niana just stared at her, an unhappy look in her eyes, but she agreed to stay put.

It wasn't too long before Miriah returned, carrying food and water for herself, and raw meat for Niana. It was a long time before the dragon would take her eyes off of her Rider.

As the time passed, Miriah took to admiring her dragon. Niana was now taller at the shoulder than Brie was from her head to the ground.

Her scales had hardened, and had darkened to an even more rich shade of violet. She was no longer awkward as she moved, but graceful, and nicely proportioned. She really had become a beautiful young dragon.

Miriah was almost looking forward to seeing how who both she and her dragon became during the time they were together.


	5. The Warding Forest

There was a point where Miriah could see a very vague and extremely far off outline of Du Weldenvarden. In the distance, she could also see a dark speck that seemed to be moving.

It gradually grew closer, and shifted from blackish to a beautiful blue color. Miriah watched as it grew closer. Soon it was close enough for her to be able to make it out. It was another dragon, drawing closer and closer.

Miriah felt a sudden surge of adrenalin when she realized that. The alarm cleared away when she remembered that Saphira, Eragon Shadeslayer's dragon was blue, and as long as it was them, she had no reason to fear.

They drew closer, and Miriah could make out two figures on Saphira's back. They flew overhead, just meters to Miriah's left. The dragon's two passengers didn't notice Miriah, but that was probably a good thing, she thought.

It probably would have gotten in the way of Eragon's thoughts about whatever they were leaving the Du Weldenvarden for. But it gave her great cause to think about them.

What would it be like, for both of them, to know that there was another Rider on their side?

* * *

In the late afternoon, a few days later, Miriah and Niana finally reached the edge of the forest. As they entered the shaded edge of the trees, she slowed Brie to a trot.

They'd had a goof trip, considering how vigilant Galbatorix's soldiers usually were. They had nearly run into a squad almost two days before. It was only sheer luck that they'd managed to evade them.

But surely, they would be safe in Du Weldenvarden. As if her thoughts triggered something, three figures dropped from one of the trees. They were tall, lithe, and striking to the human eye – they were elves.

Miriah jumped in the saddle, her heart pounding. Her hand instinctively flying to the only weapon she had – a small knife. The one in the forefront of the small group stepped forward a few paces.

"What are you doing in the forest?" He asked sharply. He was obviously the leader, judging by his position and the authority in his voice. She stared at him for a moment, unable to find her voice.

"What are you doing here?" He asked again, more impatient this time. Before Miriah could find her voice, Niana landed in front of her, and roared fiercely at the elves. The leader backed up a few paces, back to his original position, so that he was just out of reach of Niana's glittering white teeth.

"I have come here seeking a safe haven from Galbatorix," she said, once she had recovered her voice. Then, seeing the other two elves exchange a glance, she continued, trying to explain herself. "I am a Rider, and the daughter of elf-friends."

The leader nodded, "A Rider and child of elf-friends is always welcome in Du Weldenvarden." He inclined his head to her before continuing. "However, you must prove that you are what you say. All you have to do is show me your gedwey ingasia, your parents rings, and allow me to search you mind for any…misdemeanor."

She watched him for a moment. She had absolutely no idea what a gedwey ingasia was.

He sighed. "Show us where your dragon marked you, your parents rings, and allow me to look through your memories. Alright?"

Miriah nodded, reaching to her neck, where the chain that held her parents' rings hung. She undid the clasp, and allowed the necklace to slip onto her hand.

She held her hand out to the leader, showing him both the rings, and the silver mark on her palm. He stepped forward once more, taking the rings, he examined them for a moment, glancing at her palm as he handed them back.

"Will you allow me to examine your mind with a spell?" He asked, his nearly black eyes meeting her own bright green ones. She nodded again.

He reached out a hand, but before he was even close, Niana lashed out again. She swung her spiked tail at the elf, which he nimbly avoided.

"Call your dragon off!" He yelped, evading the spiked appendage once more. Miriah reached out, and grasped Niana's head in both hands, forcing the dragon to look at her.

"Stop. These are friends. He means no harm. He just wants to make sure that we don't mean harm to the forest, or the elves." Niana's violet eyes met her Rider's, in that intense moment. Finally, the dragon averted her eyes, and pulled her head away.

The elf stepped forward again while Niana slunk away. He muttered something in a language that she didn't understand, as he reached out with his right hand.

Then she felt the oddest sensation flood through her mind, followed by a flurry of images. The next thing she knew, he was stepping back.

"Very well, you may enter the forest," the elf said. "I am Torier. My companions are Loresté and Naylor." He gestured to the silver-haired elf first, and the other, whose hair was as dark as his own as he said the names.

"We need to start moving, else we might draw suspicion to the edge of the woods. The three of us will escort you to Ellesmera, and we will see if Queen Islanzadi can meet with you when we reach the capital. She will be most pleased that there is another Rider who is on out side, not Galbatorix's." He motioned for his two companions to precede them into the deeper reaches of the forest before he indicated that they were to follow them.

Miriah glanced back at the sunlit landscape once more, half wondering if she should go back. A sudden image appeared unbidden in her mind.

If they went back, Niana would almost certainly be killed, or they would be enslaved by the king. Neither of those options even remotely appealed to Miriah.

Finally, she dismounted, and led Brie on, Torier by her side, making sure that they followed the right path, and Niana behind them, unwilling to let her Rider out of her sight.


	6. The Spider

Miriah walked silently after them, her mind drifting off to other things while she did. For a moment, as she followed the elves, she stopped watching where she was going.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. A large spider fell from the trees and landed on her head. When that happened, Miriah let out an earsplitting screech. Brie shied away from her, while Niana leaped forward in an effort to see what was distressing her Rider.

"Get it off!" Miriah shrieked, too petrified to move. She hated spiders – absolutely hated them. They scared her, and anything that scared her, she hated with a passion.

Torier, who was nearest to her, sighed, and scooped the spider off of her. While she held it, she backed away from him, her green eyes wide as she watched the spider, which was as big as his hand.

Then, as she couldn't see where she was backing up to, she tripped over a tree root. That sent her tumbling down a hill. She yelped as she rolled over sharp twigs, rocks and all manner of things.

By the time she was at the bottom of the hill she was covered in slightly muddy leaf bits, and anything that got caught in her hair.

The part that annoyed her most was at the very base of the hill there was a tree. A perfectly placed tree.

Tumbling as she was, she couldn't stop herself, and she slammed into the tree trunk. She felt her breath rush out from the impact while her vision spun.

Her last sight before everything went black was the elves rushing down the slope toward her with Niana on their heels.

* * *

Miriah woke to the darkness of the forest, the soft light of a fire, and the hushed whispered of soft elfin voices.

A soft moan escaped her lips as her awareness returned. Her head ached, and a dull throbbing emanated from her abdomen. She turned her head toward the warm glow of the crackling fire, fighting to clear her vision.

She let out a slightly louder groan, stretching the stiff muscles in her body. She hissed when a sharp pain shot through her lower back and her belly. She must have broken a rib, she thought dully.

Her hand slipped down to the area that was smarting. She rested her hand there for a moment, then gently probed the tender spot. She was rewarded in an instant when she did.

"Ouch," she muttered. "Definitely either bruised or cracked it." She had done that once before. She'd been helping her grandfather fix the roof, and she'd tripped over the edge of the ladder and landed on a rock half-buried in the sand. She'd been fourteen that time, and it hadn't been an experience that she'd wanted to repeat.

She berated herself mentally for being so clumsy, again. She was always doing things like that, when it was clear that she could avoid them. She glanced around; Niana was asleep – and snoring – a few meters away, she noticed,

Finally, she shifted, and got out of the blankets that the elves had wrapped around her to keep her comfortable while she was unconscious. They were soft, a luxury for her, just like all of the trees.

The three elves stopped talking when they saw that she was awake. Torier even got up and moved over to her, giving her sleeping dragon a wide berth. He raised a questioning brow as he approached.

"Our new Rider is afraid of spiders?" He asked softly. Miriah nodded sheepishly, not daring to look him straight in the eye. Realizing that he'd made her uncomfortable, he offered a slight smile.

"Don't worry, there aren't many spiders in Ellesméra, and they stay a good distance from the Riders' quarters." Miriah acknowledged his statement with a nod. Her jade eyes flicked from his face to the fire, where Nàylor and Loresté sat, silently watching her and their friend.

Everything was so new to her, the scenery, the people, and just the experience. Just a few months ago, she never would have thought that this would be the direction her life would go. She never would have thought that she'd be a Dragon Rider, that she'd have Niana.

Now, she didn't know what she'd do if she didn't have Niana; the idea was so foreign to her that it seemed strange that she'd lived so long without her dragon.

She continued to watch the fire, sadly, now. She missed her grandparents, and she missed Lorievi, even though she had been so desperate to get away from it. She had been desperate to get away, but not in the sense that she had actually wanted the betrothal that had been arranged for her.

She'd been so mad when she found out what her grandparents were planning that she'd actually managed to crack a gourd when she'd kicked it…and she'd also bruised her foot doing that. It hadn't been a pleasant experience either – Miriah hadn't been able to walk for more than two weeks after the incident.

And that was just one of the many times she'd let her temper get the better of her. She had descent restraint and self-discipline, but that didn't always help much when she got mad or upset. The funny thing was, while she was short tempered, it also took alot to get her going.

She sighed, and glanced back at the elf, who continued to watch her. She could feel Loresté's and Nàylor's eyes on her as well. They watched her thoughtfully, seeming to wonder why she was so quiet. They probably hadn't been uprooted from their homes like she had…

Miriah sighed. "When are we going to move on? Tomorrow?" Torier nodded,

"Tomorrow morning, after we eat." Miriah nodded, drifting off to her thoughts again. After a moment, Torier got up again and walked back to his friends, once more staying away from the dragon.

The Rider's eyes drifted to the great violet beast. She thought her dragon was absolutely gorgeous. Even if she could go back in time, she wouldn't trade anything for Niana, not even if it was the whole of Alagaësia, without a fight.

Miriah made up her mind then. She would never let Galbatorix get his hands on her dragon.

He would fall. And she was going to help.


	7. Ellesméra

Morning dawned cold for the small company of travelers. Miriah yawned and stretched, wincing when a pain shot through her side. She rolled over to see the three elves on the other side of the camp, making final preparations to leave. With another yawn, she got up.

Blinking her jade green eyes, she glanced around. She hadn't seen her surroundings the night before. They stood in a glade, surrounded my trees in all directions. She saw her saddlebags not too far away, and walked over to them.

Silently, she pulled out her hairbrush and began undoing the braid in her hair. Having had long hair for almost her entire life, she was adept at brushing the long tresses. Nearly as quickly as she had undone her hair, she rebraided her locks into a neat plait that hung down her back. Usually, she would have pinned it up, but this time, she decided not to.

After putting the brush away, Miriah stood up, and walked over to her dragon, who was still asleep. "Niana, wake up." She nudged the great violet beast. She didn't get a response. So, she tried something new. _NIANA!_ The dragon jumped, jerking her head from side to side.

 _What? What's wrong?_ She inquired.

"It's time to go, silly." Miriah replied. She smiled at her dragon. "Come on. Let's go." Niana stretched and lumbered after her Rider, violet eyes curious. When the elves saw that both she and her dragon were ready to go, Torier stepped forward.

"We need to be going now if we want to get to Ellesméra before dark tonight. Are you ready to start moving?" He asked. Miriah nodded and picked up her pack. Loresté already had Brie's bridle on, and held the mare's reins in his right hand. The elves conversed for another moment, before Torier nodded to Miriah, and they started off.

* * *

The journey through the woods was long with more obstacles than Miriah had expected. Finally, the small group set foot in Ellesméra. A few elves looked up from what they were doing when Miriah and Niana walked by, but very few actually noticed them. Most who glanced up greeted Torier, Loresté or Nàylor, and completely ignored her.

She was all right with that. She had almost always been the center of attention when she'd been in Lorievi, and it wasn't something that she had really liked. It confused her, though, that no one seemed to pay attention to her at all, nor to Niana's bulk as the violet dragon ambled along behind Miriah.

This time, as she drifted into her thoughts, she did pay attention to where she was going. After the last time…well, she had learned her lesson. She had a path in front of her; more over, she had several, if she thought about it properly. She did not know what Islanzadí would say to her, nor did she want to – the prospect of meeting the queen of the elves was not one that she relished. To be completely frank, she was rather frightened of the queen, and she had not laid an eye on her.

Still, there seemed to be a fork in the road, if not a larger split. For all she knew, there could be more paths than she could ever see. First, she could stay with the elves if they would allow her. She could hide, but from what little she really knew about the Black Rider, the Usurper King of Alagaësia, he would burn the forest down. It wouldn't matter if he killed every living thing in the forest, he would brun it to hot ash to destroy the elves, and her with them, unwittingly as it would be.

She could also fight. She had no skill with a blade, and nor any other prowess other than her drawings and weavings. That was all behind her, besides. She would not be able to weave or draw here unless she was given the supplies. Miriah was not sure she wanted to pick up a pencil or yarn again. It seemed rather strange to her now, foreign even; but it was good, too. She need not sell her creations, if she made any. There were no soldiers to question her or why her weavings had an eerie likeness.

Miriah jerked her thoughts back on track then, having realized that they had wandered far. There was a chance that she could help fight, she reminded herself. Even if she didn't know how, she could learn. Or, at least, she hoped she could. For all she knew, the elves wouldn't teach her. If she ever met him, she could still support Eragon, though. _If…_

The only other option that was apparent to her was running – running before anyone else found out about her or Niana. It was cowardly, and while it did not appeal to her, she knew that it was the safest option in some ways - it would be years and years if Galbatorix ever found out about them…

' _Why do you worry so much about this?'_ Niana's voice echoed in her head. Miriah tilted her head up to the large dragonet and peered into the glittering amethyst eye that looked down at her.

' _I'm scared, Niana,'_ Miriah admitted. ' _I've never been this far from home before, and I'm scared that I won't know what to do when I need to take action…'_

' _I am with you. That is all that matters. We are together,'_ Niana told her through their mental bond. Miriah was somewhat comforted by this, but the unease settled into her stomach as she was let toward wherever her escorts were taking her.

"Lady Rider." Miriah looked toward Torier when his musical voice sounded, removed from her thoughts almost instantly. She looked at him quizzically and chewed on her lip, focusing on the greenery of a leaf behind his shoulder in an attempt to divert the nervousness that had formed in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes?" she asked softly. Torier's lips curved slightly, but only very fractionally.

"The first thing I must tell you now is this: Queen Islanzadí knows very little about you right now. I have contacted her and told her that we have run across a discovery, another Rider that may be free of Galbatorix's clutches, but…." Torier trailed off, pausing for a moment. "All things being the same, it is a compete mystery to all of us how you came to be a Rider. It is certain that her majesty will wish to hear your tale," he told her. Miriah nodded nervously, trying not to shift her weight from side to side repeatedly. Torier fell silent as he frowned slightly as he watched her movements. She bit her lip and waited.

"Was there more?" Miriah asked after another moment of silence. Torier pursed his lips.

"Rider Eragon left several days ago, and therefore will not know of your existence until he returns or you chose to leave, of which the former would be the more preferable for you with your dragon," the elf replied.

There was a glint in his eyes that Miriah did not like when he spoke. It was not anger or any like emotion, but it made her even more uncomfortable. Was it that Torier – with all of his brusque courtesy – did not think that she should be Niana's Rider? If he thought that, then he would not be the only one. Miriah herself had had many doubts in the time that it had taken her to arrive in Du Weldenvarden. She still was not entirely sure that she was really the best Rider that Niana could have.

' _You are my Rider, and I chose_ you, _not one of the elves._ ' Niana's voice echoed in her mind, startling Miriah out of her reverie once more. ' _Do not forget that,'_ the dragon told her. Miriah half turned to look at Niana, a slight smile forming on her lips.

' _Thank you, Ni','_ she said. She took a deep breath as she turned back to the elves and waited.

It was only a few moments later when Miriah was led to the throne room. The room itself was a marvel to her, with the interwoven branches and the art about it. In the last few days, Miriah had seen more green, more foliage – which she had never seen the like of in the desert – than she had in her whole life put together. The trees rose high above all of them, even Niana, weaving into a pattern that Miriah never could have even imagined. Her eyes stopped for a moment on the chairs on either side, empty for the time being.

She was awe-struck just being in the grand room (if it could _really_ be called _just_ a room, she added to herself), so different from the houses and scenery of Lorievi. Niana had to nudge her to get the girl to move farther than a few feet as she stared around in wonder.

At the opposite end of the room was another sight that Miriah had never expected. While she had grown somewhat used to the presence of the elves Torier, Loresté, and Nàylor, she had not really considered the fact that she was meeting their queen, Islanzadí, waiting at her knotted throne.

Finally, her eyes fell on the elf woman, who awaited them, the air about her imperious and regal. Her raven locks were bound only by a silvery circlet, and her perfectly formed features were set with her royal demeanor. The elf-queen's dark eyes surveyed the girl, from beneath dark brows, as if she was already making her judgments of the young Rider.

Islanzadí rose once they were close enough, her simple white dress and black girdle flowing as she moved. The cloak she wore, which looked almost velvety to Miriah, swished as she moved from the dais with perfect bearing.

Miriah gulped as she stared at the elf woman. This was certainly not what she had had in mind when she had wanted to get out of marrying Elior…


End file.
